writings from grad school in neuroscience

Criticality. Shortness. Science.

Criticality is instigated by a second messenger cascade that modulates autocrine signaling. As one binds to another, they can be absorbed by the other and poison them from the inside out. Alternatively they may maintain detached on the surface and indirectly imbue the other with self-doubt which reacts with defense mechanisms to form a compensating shell that slowly desensitizes and degrades the receptivity of the cold motionless surface. The main effects are accounted for by the mirrored coding of their actions. Homeokinesis, managing the untidy foldings and structure with the energy of another.  Eventually they will be broken down and reduced to tarnished metaphors of themselves, microscopic, inanimate, diagrams of their souls.

To be cold is to forget heat, to be hot is to forget cold. 

Palindromes.

For approximately fifteen minutes everyday for five days then for 30-45 minutes on subsequent days in a rhythmic lunar cycle until the peak days there is a shield that will lower itself over the eyes. Something about my honesty makes me taste like lipstick and the iron in my blood.

 I am constantly in a state of presentation because I am striving for a presentation. 

Should I be so surprised when I support barely heartedly day after day neuroscience which I love for only two reasons:

I know how it can be improved upon, and it makes me feel like I haven’t been that brain damage in high school because I’m capable of understanding my brain damage in high school.

I do not want to compensate for my dazed flachelent attention span;  self medicated with hallucinogens, masters degrees, and phone numbers.

That leaves me alone, uneducated, and sober.

Motives are what we make them.  This is why LSD is an extremely important drug.

Subjectivity is part of an external reality.  Sweat lodges are a crucial component of realistic and empathetic self reflection.

Self help books are the devil. Because they externalize the struggle.

I am not a self help book. I am not a self help book.  Just chant that three times, and you can truly be yourself. 

I am constantly in a state of presentation because I am striving for a presentation.

The writers mind drifts between the page and her readers, drifts to their awareness of his wonderings, and then finally admits them and falters beneath her own egocentric diologue, holding on to his sanity by the string of assurance that self awareness grants her.

I am striving for being in the being of being.

Seeing everymoment in every other moment. 

People hallucnagens and exploratory journeys through the history of abstraction and molecular wonder.

That’s just not what happens though.  I sit down and look at flash cards and the information slowly siddles into my mind.  I weep. I weep. I weep.

I was happy that time I exercised.

Now my sentencenes just keep getting shorter.

The I me my more numerous.

The melancholy satire more convoluted and reflective of a generation that could find the middle of nowhere on their GPS.

Hypocracy is inevitable.

In Memorial of David Bowie

In Memorial of David Bowie

David Bowie has passed, but he was larger than life.  He created myths and fantasies that he could live out his creations through, that he could reach people through.  The name David Bowie has become a being that can’t die because he is embedded in us, not just in the vinyl we own or the posters on our wall, but in the more colorful and eccentric world we live in because he existed. He does not need tall buildings or statues or large falices to be memorialized.  I remember his successes and his mistakes as proof that we are all aliens in our own way and that only makes us more human.  Our alien nature only makes it more possible for us to be who we want to be.  It will never stop us from being more fabulous than we’d ever imagined.  Without ever saying a word to me, David Bowie makes me feel like I’m beautiful, like I can dress the way I want to, have the friends and lovers I want to, and to be proud of everything that makes me different.  He taught me to embrace change, and that entering new worlds or ideas or spaces can be sincere, and there’s no need to be afraid or to feel like a poser.  It just means I get to experiment with my hair do.  He taught me that you can be a bad ass, you can push the limits while being sentimental in a room full of muppets.  So much of who I am today, and of who so many people are, is shaped by David Bowie and the excellent musicians and artists he brought together. The world will never forget its new found comfort, self esteem, and spectacular environment he helped give it permission to create with his confidence and talent.  His devotion to art was never simply about getting paid or being loved, it was about bringing everyone together and telling them to “give me your hands, because you’re wonderful.” 

If anyone would like to help me figure out how to get to the memorial concert at Carnegie hall, or arrange our own memorial concert and/or a memorial film marathon in New Orleans please let me know.  I know a lot of people who feel the word 'fan' is understatement when it comes to Bowie and I know this isn’t easy for any of us.